


Star Stitches

by starrylitme



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Complicated Relationships, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Repressed, Hospitalization, Hospitals, KamuKoma Week 2018, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Past Relationship(s), Post-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Recovery, Scars, Stars, Stitches, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 12:26:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15412890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrylitme/pseuds/starrylitme
Summary: He exists only to serve a purpose. Said purpose may mold, but the basic principle remains.He is nothing more than an intended pillar. Something foundational, to support and to be trampled upon like the very ground.He understands this. He understands it keenly.Now he understands better than ever.(Post-SDR2 AU in which Hinata Hajime is swallowed up by the program following the shutdown. Kamukura decides to continue assisting in the recovery of the remnants while keeping the true hopelessness of Hinata's situation under wraps. Komaeda, of course, immediately sees through him.Considering their past relationship, this shouldn't be a surprise.)





	Star Stitches

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea from one of my friends and kinda changed it a little. I'm pretty glad I did.
> 
> This one's even more bittersweet than the last one. It's, in fact, super bittersweet. Most of the fics I did are. Whoops. But this one in particular is yeah.
> 
> Introspective Kamukura is actually really fun to write even if it's super tricky, too. Come to think of it, every fic I wrote for this week except for one is from his perspective... Oops.

He’s more than aware of how haunted his reflection is. Especially now that they’ve all woken up and his work is more or less finished. But the effects of days and nights of tedium, of tirelessly working those days and nights, constant scans, constant test runs, constant experimenting until finally, finally—

He looks as outwardly dead as he feels dead on the inside.

Unsurprising. Predictable. Boring.

The shadows under his eyes only highlight the gauntness of his face and the piercing shade of crimson that filled his irises. Hiding them with the long locks of black would do little. In fact, such an action could very well be counterproductive.

His hair getting to be this long was an oversight. If he is to oversee the recovering remnants of despair, he must take care of this as soon as possible.

With the situation that befell Hinata Hajime, it would be best to distance himself from the appearance that defined Kamukura Izuru.

There was nothing he could do for his eyes, save for perhaps colored contacts. Perhaps. But getting a haircut would be a very simple task.

The only real concern is how the remnants will handle Hinata’s situation. They already know the basics, but they may be curious about the details. Said details would be troublesome to explain.

Especially when this knowledge would be distressing. Despairing, even.

He...cannot allow that. So, he shall let them believe the best that they can. Grant them a bit of blind hope, as it were.

Truth be told, he believes he can successfully fool the remnants in this manner. Most of them.

Except one.

And this one will undoubtedly be the most troublesome of all.

* * *

“Honestly, Kamukura-kun, I’m flattered that you even tried. I didn’t think that would ever be possible. But here it is! You tried and failed! What a remarkable day this is! I truly am so lucky to bear witness to it!”

Komaeda claps and laughs with mirthless delight.

Kamukura keeps his face impassive. There’s no point, after all, in feigning innocence. Such a look would be unfitting for Hinata Hajime either way. And, well...

_There had been no point in trying to fool this one in the first place. Truly, I should have known better._

“...you are not going to tell anyone,” he found himself saying. “The others will not believe you.”

“I know they won’t,” Komaeda replies cheerfully. “Even if they hear you talk about how hopeless the situation is, they’ll just assume you’re not trying hard enough. They’ll refuse to give up! And why wouldn’t they? Hinata-kun is their _friend_ , after all.” His smile twists and distorts. That cheerfulness begins to ooze contempt and sarcasm. “They’re such optimistic, _loyal_ people once you scrape away the despair.”

Kamukura’s gaze flickers downwards, briefly. And then, swiftly, he removes his contacts. The contacts had been a poor idea, anyway.

Komaeda’s breath catches, but then he clears his throat. As if trying to hide it.

“It’s...really weird, seeing those eyes when your hair’s so short. Maybe you should grow your hair out, Kamukura-kun,” he suggested, almost lightly. “The others might be understanding if it’s just a little.”

“This appearance is more efficient,” Kamukura said. “It lulls them into a false sense of security the more I resemble Hinata Hajime without being exact. However, you know the truth of my perspective on the matter.”

_How troubling that is. And yet, it is expectable as well. At the same time..._

“I predicted the possibility of you seeing through me,” he went on. “But truthfully, I am not entirely sure how you saw through me so easily. I had worded Hinata Hajime’s situation very favorably without so much as a twitch in my expression. But you didn’t even seem to hesitate on calling those words into question.”

Komaeda twitches a bit, and he brushes back his hair.

“I just had a feeling,” he said. “A lucky guess, you could say.”

He giggles at his own joke. It is a poor façade.

“It was not just that,” Kamukura almost snapped. His eyes narrowed sharply, dangerously, piercingly enough for Komaeda to flinch. “You were confident. You did not even hesitate before calling me out. Why would you be so _sure_?”

Komaeda shivered, briefly, fisting his hand into the edges of the hospital blanket. Then, he wheezed out a not quite laugh.

“Kamukura-kun,” he sighs, and chuckles warmly and ruefully. “It’s because I remembered you almost immediately when I woke up. I remembered how well I _knew_ you.”

_...almost...immediately._

“That should not have happened.”

“I don’t remember everything,” Komaeda said. “But I do remember you. Being close to you. Taking in just the _way_ you looked when you were about to lie for someone else’s sake. And then... You looked at me that very same way when you walked in.”

The briefest slipup. And of course, that had been enough.

“...how problematic. I should have known your situation would involve unforeseen consequences of the simulation’s faulty programming.”

Komaeda’s smile is a rueful one.

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” he said. “Besides the fact that they’re not going to believe me, I know why you’re doing this. It’s distasteful, but—the last thing we need is any of them falling back into that despicable despair. So.” His eyes brighten. “Why don’t we work together? Why don’t we _nurture_ the hope still resting within their broken souls?”

Komaeda offers his remaining hand. All Kamukura can see is all the ways in that this very person is a broken soul, both physically and emotionally.

“We should prepare you with a robotic arm, soon,” Kamukura mused. “But you are not the only one missing parts. At the very least, however, all remnants of her have been scraped off.”

Komaeda beams.

“And what’s left is still a rotted husk. That said! I’m perfectly willing to help you, Kamukura-kun. This is the perfect opportunity for your redemptive arc, after all!”

_This isn’t fiction, Komaeda Nagito._

But there was no point in saying that. Komaeda Nagito knew, but it made thinking of the circumstances easier. Easier to be detached from.

“I do not need it,” Kamukura said firmly, but gingerly took the offered hand all the same. “I am only accepting it because you are offering it. It would be more boring to simply refuse.”

“Ehe, there, see?” Komaeda’s thumb brushes almost fondly over his knuckles. “You’re already on the right track, Kamukura-kun. Hope’s Peak would be _proud_.”

“No, that is wrong.”

Komaeda’s eyes twinkle in response.

* * *

Caring for the others is simple, but tedious as one would expect. They all require a level of attentiveness and a heightened perspective. Truly, Hinata Hajime would’ve floundered considerably.

Kamukura does not, and they do not mind, despite how unsettling it might be. It cannot be helped. Though they still worry, they’re all too willing to have hope, as Komaeda said. It is unsurprised. They are already wrapped up in their own troubles, their own relationships. Hinata Hajime was always best suited as a background character. A background concern.

That much he remembers. The simulation had truly been a different experience in several ways for the person inhabiting this body.

But it does not matter. He must focus on the remnants.

That said, it is all still so very—boring. Tiring.

As he had expected.

Even when it came to the person who knew.

“That’s usually how it goes, Kamukura-kun,” Komaeda said. “Recovery isn’t fun. It’s very boring. Very dull. Very dry. Life, sadly, isn’t made of the milestones you see in narratives.”

“That does not stop you from treating it as such,” Kamukura pointed out dryly, squeezing and massaging the other’s thigh. Komaeda blinks at him innocuously. “You are going to need crutches. Likely for longer than the rest. Your tendency poor dieting and nutritional habits really have worsened matters.”

“Yeah... That sounds about right...”

For a moment, Kamukura is distracted by one of the symmetrical scarring on his thigh. These injuries when inflicted had likely needed stitching. It is clear that Komaeda Nagito did not get said stitching.

Thoughtlessly, he runs his fingers over the ruined tissue.

Komaeda flinches and then flicks his forehead.

“At least take me out to dinner first,” he said coldly and kicked him away. “Or have some tact. I don’t ask to feel up your head scars, now do I?”

At that, Kamukura reaches up to touch said scars. Because of the haircut, they had been prominent. He was used to receiving stares for them and yet, at this moment...

“...no, you do not.”

“Because that would be rude!” Komaeda exclaimed huffily. “So you really shouldn’t feel up mine, either! Massages for the muscles, I can take, but no strokes for the scars, Kamukura-kun!”

“Understood.”

_What came over me?_

Somehow, he remembered as well. And the memory was so much that he forced himself to leave immediately.

* * *

He doubted that Komaeda remembered that he had, in fact, felt up his surgical scars before. In return, Kamukura had done the same, fingers brushing along marks that were well-hidden by soft wisps of white.

“The surgeon who worked on you was the same as the one who worked on me,” Kamukura had said quietly. “That is quite the coincidence, I suppose.”

Komaeda giggled, pressing into his hand.

“Well, one could also call that fate, Kamukura-kun.”

“Fate. What a ridiculous and boring concept.”

“Coming from _you_?”’

Komaeda’s eyes had been bright, shimmering like the ocean’s surface reflecting moonlight.

“...I am not wrong.”

“How unromantic!”

Despite those words, Komaeda had clung to him with a squeal. Impulsively, his arms wrap around Komaeda in return. Komaeda presses up against him, angularities and bone, and yet, soft and warm as well.

There had been a time when he avoided contact. Unnecessarily simulation. Aggravating.

But here, the sensation is different, not unpleasant, especially with the softness of Komaeda’s hair and the warmth of his skin.

He had the scent of centuries old potpourri and decay. A mixed bag of scents, but—it was still Komaeda Nagito.

Komaeda Nagito, who cuddled up against him when they were in bed together. Komaeda Nagito, who clung as though he were a security blanket.

Komaeda Nagito who touched his scars with nothing short of curiosity and tenderness.

“Do they hurt ever?” he asked, those starlit greens twinkling once more. “Hey, Kamukura-kun... Do you ever get headaches?” A smile flickers across his lips. “Is talent so overwhelming that it sometimes feels as though your head will burst?”

“I imagine that if I were ever struck here, it would hurt considerably,” Kamukura answered, and he brushes his hair back so that the stitch marks are covered. “But that would never happen.”

“You should still wear something as protection!” Komaeda exclaimed. “I can let you borrow my parka. I think it’d look good on you!”

Kamukura ruffled his hair.

“You need that more. Do not concern yourself with me.”

“Ehhh? But how can I not?” Komaeda puffs his cheeks. “After all, Kamukura-kun, I—!”

(He does not expect Komaeda Nagito to remember.

Thus, he should not dwell over this.)

* * *

He can only pacify for so long. It is inevitable that the remnants grow restless with themselves and with the situation. So restless that they reach out and cling—but he is the only person to cling to.

And he is not the one they want.

“H-Hey...” The mechanic in particular is the most shaken up, unsurprisingly. This one is the neediest of the bunch, aside from the former healthcare committee member. “When _is_ Hinata coming back?”

That said, this one likely has the greatest interest in seeing Hinata Hajime again.

(Aside from Komaeda Nagito, as loathe as he were to admit it.)

They were soul friends, after all.

“Soon.”

“...How soon?”

The mechanic is shaking. He looks close to tears. Troublesome. Expectable, but troublesome.

“Once everyone recovers fully, I shall focus entirely on accessing his files on the program and retrieve him if I have not already done so.” The words are fluid and swift. Practiced. “For now, however, the code is complicated and I have much else to concern myself with.”

“And...” A lick of his lips. “And, uh... You’re really sure you can do that?”

“You have the word of the Ultimate Hope, former as I may be.” Practiced. Precise. “For now, focus on yourself.”

It is easiest this way.

“It is what Hinata Hajime would want.”

Despite that uncertainty, the mechanic’s dark eyes light up a little, a pitiful smile pulling at his lips.

“Aha, yeah... Yeah, he would... He’d probably get really annoyed with me for being a wimp.”

“He would. You are quite annoying.”

“Hey,” he moaned. “T-That’s pretty harsh! Christ, you haven’t changed at all, have you?!”

_...Have I?_

“Urgh, I really hope you bring back Hinata soon,” he babbles on, rubbing at his temples. “I-I don’t think I can take much more of you...”

Kamukura says nothing. The mechanic freezes up.

“U-Uh...! By that, I mean...!”

“It is nothing,” he said. “Do not concern yourself with it. There is no need.”

“I... Um... Y... Yeah...”

There was no need, whatsoever.

* * *

He looks into the mirror again, running his fingers along the deep, dark shadows that serve to make the crimson irises all the brighter. All the more piercing.

He has not been getting much sleep. Restlessness invites restlessness.

He feels dull-minded.

But it is nothing worth concern over. It never has been. He exists only to serve a purpose. Said purpose may mold, but the basic principle remains.

He is nothing more than an intended pillar. Something foundational, to support and to be trampled upon like the very ground.

He understands this. He understands it keenly.

(When he first met her, she used this knowledge to manipulate him. Even though he knows he saw through it, he still...)

Now he understands better than ever.

But, all that said...

He remembers Komaeda Nagito.

* * *

“You’ll never be the Ultimate Hope.”

Komaeda had said it with such confidence. It was expected, but also, above all else, it was different. He understood it, but these words, this belief, still belonged solely to Komaeda Nagito. No one else would say such things, not even her.

He understands Komaeda’s reasons for feeling this way, all the same.

But, Komaeda still found a way to surprise him.

“Kamukura-kun...” He still keenly remembers that crooked smile, that innocuous tilt of Komaeda’s head. “Do you know why? More than being artificial, you don’t care about hope at all. Honestly, I can’t tell what you care about. I suppose I could guess.”

“You could,” he replied.

Komaeda laughed.

“Well, then... I think Kamukura-kun cares the way I do about existing, at least.”

Luck is a boring, insignificant thing, and yet, here was a moment that had Kamukura Izuru perk with interest in a way that even she hadn’t managed to accomplish.

“...wrong,” he said, eyes narrowing. “I am not nearly so self-important.”

“Maybe not,” Komaeda hums. “But you certainly do have a purpose of being a mere stepping stone. That said, I have the feeling that you want more than that.”

“You thought wrong,” he said. “I do not care about such things.”

“Is that true?” Komaeda asked. “Or are you just saying that because the last person who showed an interest in your desires was that wretched, hateful manipulative girl?”

He hadn’t said anything to that. He hadn’t anything _to_ say, really.

“Just because you’re nothing more than a tool, just because you were even more used up than intended, that doesn’t mean you don’t still place an inherent value in your own existence and concerns. At least, I assume so.” Komaeda smiles up at him. “I can’t tell for sure. You’re so difficult to read. And so closed off! So cold! You really don’t play nicely with others.”

“Such things are inconsequential,” he said. “Boring. Nothing to concern myself over.”

“Your eyes are so vacant,” Komaeda commented, blinking. “Emptiness is as despairing as it is lonely.”

_Emptiness_.

“You are irritating, Komaeda Nagito.”

Komaeda laughed brightly.

“I know, I know! I’m just the worst! So obnoxious! It’s really, really despairing!” he exclaimed, grinning. “But, you know, in times like these...”

Komaeda reaches for him.

“Don’t cold, empty creatures like us _crave_ warmth and fulfillment?”

Komaeda’s hand was cold and skeletal like that of a corpse. Komaeda childishly swings their connected hands with a giggle. In that moment, there had been a spark.

A spark of gentleness that he had not experienced before, even as he knew others were capable of it. A vulnerability that was intimate. Open.

As though they were close.

As though they were familiar.

At first, he had told himself that Komaeda Nagito was merely imitating _her_.

But, she would and never _could_ be like this.

“I think we’re very similar, Kamukura-kun,” Komaeda says it so serenely. “Which is why, even if I detest the circumstances, I can’t help but be drawn to you. It’s...strange. But also comforting.”

His thumb runs over Kamukura’s knuckles. There are countless ways to break that bone. Komaeda Nagito could die to his hands so easily.

That thought—is as gruesome as it is unpleasant.

“What about you?” Komaeda’s eyes are starlit fog. Before despair, before her, before the dark, casted shadows underneath, they must have been pure, sparkling light. And, yet. “Kamukura-kun, how do you feel about all this?”

“I...”

_I just..._

“Insignificant.”

_I just want everything to end._

And, yet. The way Komaeda nods sympathetically, the way that serene smile twists sadly, the way Komaeda Nagito ducks his head... Finally, the way Komaeda Nagito squeezed his hand.

“I understand, Kamukura-kun.”

The rest of the world could give way to decay and ash but this moment was one that clung.

How irritating that was.

How foolish he still is.

He really is still trapped in that cold, gray, empty room.

* * *

He lays awake staring blankly at the ceiling for a long, long time.

No matter where his thoughts wander, he cannot fall asleep, all the same.

_...how boring._

Kamukura pushes himself up.

He decides to go for a walk.

He is not the only one out and about late at night. Both the gangster and the princess are fond of contemplative nights. The musician will sometimes practice songs, but said songs are quieter than they’ve ever been, the notes shaky and often hesitant.

But right now, she is clearly frustrated. It will not be long before one of the other former remnants checks up on her. The swordswoman, perhaps. The photographer, perhaps, although she will be dissuaded from doing so if the swordswoman arrives first. Either or.

It does not really matter.

None of this really matters.

At least no one is screaming.

The temperature has been dropping as of late. It’s resulted in much chillier nights. Despite that, he does not go outside with a coat even as the cold air nips at his skin.

It hardly bothers him. With a body like this, he’s distressingly durable. So he just walks, surveying his surroundings as he does. Makes sure that no one’s trying to drown themselves in the ocean again. Or the pool.

(He thinks about how much bad luck Komaeda Nagito had with the ocean. He remembers the time he found Komaeda Nagito washed up along the beach, coughing up seawater with a grotesquely painful grin.)

He quickens his pace and shoves those memories far back.

This only causes them to fester.

(Komaeda Nagito covered in injuries and still smiling. Komaeda Nagito smiling up at him as he bandages him up. Komaeda Nagito giggling as he kissed the bruises. Komaeda Nagito. _Nagito_.)

_“You shouldn’t be ashamed of these scars,”_ Komaeda had murmured while running his fingers over them. _“They’re a part of who you are, Kamukura-kun. You should accept that with pride. Aha. Just kidding.”_

Briefly, Kamukura reaches up to touch the scars in question. He finds that he’s in front of the pool after all. It hasn’t been cleaned in a while, so the water is murky and dirty.

Good. He didn’t want to see his reflection at a time like this. He didn’t want to see his eyes—

_“Red like a rose,”_ Komaeda had murmured, lashes low. _“The color of passion. Of blood. Of...”_

A despair-ridden sky.

Blinking, he raises his gaze to stare up at the starlit night sky. Wide, vast, endless. With so little lights on the island, it was all the grander.

_...boring...so..._

A flicker of light catches his eye. And then, another. And then, several more. And then, all the stars seemed to be falling down. But of course, that was not truly the case.

_...ah._

It was a meteor shower.

A mere meteor shower.

_Nagito has spoken of these before... Nagito..._

Without even thinking, he turned on his heel.

* * *

Komaeda Nagito is, as he expected, outside. Not in the hospital, not in his cabin, but outside, bundled in blankets, sitting at a table with a book placed upon it, and blowing daintily at a cup of tea. A wheelchair was folded up nearby.

“Kamukura-kun,” he says as Kamukura stills before him. “Good evening. I wanted to go outside to read, but...” He gives his usual smile, lacking any real humor. “The meteor shower started up—so my attempts were thwarted.”

“...you mentioned that happening to you before,” Kamukura replied. “Do you remember?”

Komaeda blinks those doe eyes back at him.

“Ah, right,” he said cheerfully. “Before coming here, you probably haven’t seen a meteor shower before, have you, Kamukura-kun?”

No, he hadn’t.

“This is my first time,” he found himself admitting.

“Ah, I see.” Komaeda’s smile widened. “Well, what do you think? I’m a bit sick of them, but that’s different for you, isn’t it?”

“It is...different.”

_It doesn’t really mean anything to me, either._

And, _yet_.

Komaeda sips at his tea.

“That’s not much of an answer,” he said. “Why don’t you sit with me? You’re looking like you might drop dead any moment. Aha, just kidding. You always look like a walking corpse.”

At that, Kamukura frowned.

“ _You_ should not be the one telling me that.”

They both flinched. Komaeda blinked at him a few times, and Kamukura realized that he was— _flustered_.

_Something about that remark caused a snap. Over a minor comment like that._

**_Over something like that...?_ **

But then, Komaeda laughs and the sound is a genuine one.

“It’s been a while since I’ve heard you sass anyone,” he chuckles into his hand. “At least, I think it has.”

Kamukura shuffles to the other chair, sitting and keeping his head down.

“...I have been feeling the effects of stress a lot more keenly,” he said. “More so than I am used to. Of course, that may be because I am not under constant sedation. With how busy things are, I simply have not had the time...”

And he has been antsy as of late. But it is something he can handle. It does not _matter_.

“Your eyes are looking pretty dull,” Komaeda murmured, smile twisting. “Like wilted roses, aha. What a shame. You probably should eat more. Or maybe do yoga. Tai chi? Aikido?”

“...too boring,” Kamukura said lowly and quietly. “It is nothing I cannot cope with on my own. You need not show concern.”

“Mmm...” Another sip of his tea. Kamukura takes notice of the floating tea stalk within it. Because of course.

“It must have been tedious to get here,” Kamukura said. “Why even expend that much effort for something so menial? Were you that bored?”

“Making the tea was easy,” Komaeda chirps. “Getting the wheelchair wasn’t too bad. Rolling down here with the tea and the book went rather smoothly.” He grins. “The hardest part was actually setting up here, ehe. But if nothing else, I’ve got tenacity. It’s not nearly as bad as grasping onto floating wreckage for dear life for days. It was tedious, but I managed! Are you going to praise me for it?”

Kamukura blinks at him, and then—

“It is...impressive. Good job, Komaeda Nagito.”

“Eh?” Komaeda blinked once. Twice. Several times. “I... Wow... I didn’t actually think that you would...”

“I mean it,” he said. “Your tenacity shows promising potential for your recovery.”

Komaeda blinked at him once more before flickering his gaze to the ongoing meteor shower.

“...aha... How long has someone said something like _that_ to me? Coming from you, it’s such a strange feeling.”

I suppose that it would be.

For a while, he was quiet even as he watched Komaeda brush back his hair, tucking ivory strands behind his ear. There are scars on his fingers. In the dark, they’re hard to see, even with the flashing meteor shower above, but—Kamukura knows very well every mark that overlays Komaeda’s skin.

They had been lovers once, after all.

_...and now...?_

“Komaeda Nagito... Nagito... I...” He swallowed. “I am...sorry that I was the one who came back.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Komaeda said so simply. “It’s not like you wanted to come back. And it’s not like he _didn’t_ want to come back.”

“I... Yes...” His head hangs. “It is unfair, but it cannot be helped. Still, I _regret_ this situation.”

_I regret it so much that it hurts, and hurting feels like dying._

Komaeda hums, and he finishes his tea.

“Kamukura-kun,” he said. “If it’s any consolation, there are plenty of falling stars to wish on! You’re the probably only person who can say your wish three times fast enough! Go for it, Kamukura-kun! Go, go, go!”

Kamukura blinks at him, and stares blearily at the sky.

“...wishes...so trite...”

“You say that, but your eyes just twinkled, didn’t they?!”

“That is merely the reflection of the meteor shower.”

“I don’t belieeeeve that,” Komaeda sing-songs. “Just then, Kamukura-kun’s eyes held a spark of desperation! Of _hope_! My heart skipped a beat so I know it to be true!”

_It had skipped a beat. Is that really why?_

“Kamukura-kun.”

The chair scrapes against the ground.

“Kamukura-kun,” Komaeda said more seriously, facing him completely. “In times like these, hearts as dark as ours need all the light we can get.”

At that, Kamukura perked. And then, Komaeda smiled.

Just like that, Komaeda turned back to the falling stars.

“I hate those wayward former classmates of mine, but... I should at least wish on these shooting stars for their sake,” he said.

Kamukura frowns.

“Are you going to wish for his return as well?”

_It hurts._

“If I tell you, the wish won’t come true,” Komaeda said cheekily. “But for what it’s worth, I’m wishing for Kamukura-kun’s sake as well.”

The words strung a chord of warmth.

“...you really are so sentimental, Komaeda Nagito.”

_It’s one of those aspects to your character that I can’t help but..._

Komaeda met his gaze and held it. Like the sky, his eyes were of scattered starlight. Starlight, with a smile softened by moonlight.

“Let’s do our best tomorrow, Kamukura-kun,” he chirped. “Let’s pretend that the very night sky is wishing us luck.”

Kamukura blinks back.

“Tomorrow I’ll get some reading, but I want to stretch out my legs more,” Komaeda wiggled his toes. “And Kamukura-kun should help me. If you help, I might just let you kiss my feet.”

“Ah,” he inhaled. “Very well.”

“Don’t touch my scars again though,” Komaeda snapped haughtily. “I’m not quite that comfortable with you quite yet! Even if I used to be, that’s not the case anymore. At least...not for the moment.”

“I understand.”

“And if I fall down, you’re not allowed to carry me back unless I’m unconscious!”

“Understood.”

“And also...! You really should style your hair! I know I said you should grow it out but it—it looks like a rat’s nest, Kamukura-kun! Very uncool! Very gross!”

“...ahhh...”

“It’s long enough to braid. So maybe we should do that from now on.” Komaeda clapped his feet. “How’s that sound?”

“Mm.”

“You also shouldn’t let my classmates take advantage of you,” Komaeda huffed matter-of-factly. “They’re grown. They can handle themselves. They shouldn’t expect so much from you. There’s only one Kamukura-kun in the world, after all.”

“Hm.”

“Only one Kamukura-kun! So we can’t afford to overwork him! It would be really bad if you were overworked so bad that you obtained a status _down_ , right? _Right_?!”

Kamukura said nothing, but he did make a soft noise. To which Komaeda flustered once he realized.

“D... Did you just snort?!”

“No.”

“You did! You snorted!”

“I did not.”

“You definitely did!” Komaeda exclaimed heatedly. “T-That’s so...childish...! And here I was trying to be nice and helpful since you’ve been doing your best to help everyone...!”

Kamukura definitely snorted that time, and then, Komaeda’s breath caught.

“Thank you, Nagito.”

Komaeda shivered, cheeks pooling with a deep dark red.

“I... You look...really creepy...” He was starting to slur his words. His eyelids were drooping. “When you...smile...”

And just like that, Komaeda Nagito slumped, passing out. He was quick to catch and steady him, of course. Komaeda was unsurprisingly very light.

“...you overworked yourself as well,” Kamukura muttered into his hair, hoisting him up. “Pushing yourself so much for something so trivial and ultimately worthless and then getting so worked up...”

He says all that, and he notices the meteor shower stopping, leaving behind still, twinkling stars that would never move to the naked eye. He then brushes it off.

_These kinds of cosmic coincidences are to be expected where Komaeda Nagito is involved._

With all that said and done, he really should carry Komaeda back to his room.

_“Let’s pretend that the very night sky is wishing us luck.”_

And he should retrieve everything Komaeda brought with him on a second trip. For now, though...

“Let’s do our best tomorrow,” he echoed as he carried Komaeda off. “To face a new day...”

_For everyone’s sakes._


End file.
